Page 25 of Just One Night Together

The ward was busy with visitors, because it was Sunday afternoon, and the sunlight beyond the windows of her room was bright. Natasha had asked for the shades to be drawn and the door to be partly closed. Her room was a haven of privacy, the real world seeming very far away.

That brought Marco closer.

Natasha opened her eyes in her dream and her heart swelled at the familiarity of his features. He hadn’t aged in all these years. He was still the same young and strong man who had stolen her heart, the same watchful carpenter whose gaze she’d felt even when she was on stage. She remembered how she had danced better when he was there, because she’d wanted him to see her at her very best.

He smiled and she was struck again by the strong resemblance between father and son.But Damon. He’ll be alone.

Maybe not, Marco replied, his smile turning mysterious.Maybe you can help with that before you come to me.

She had no chance to ask because he faded from view in the way that was so horribly familiar. He was with her, but out of reach. It distressed her, particularly as she would have welcomed his embrace in this moment. She reached out, her hand wavering in the empty air, and emitted a little cry of pain.

He had been her everything.

She missed him so much.

“Shhh,” a woman said softly, her shoes quiet on the tile floor. “What’s worried you so much today?” She came into view, a small curvy nurse with dark blonde hair, who checked the heart monitor with concern, then smiled at Natasha. “Are you in pain?”

Natasha hadn’t seen this nurse before, but she supposed they changed all the time. “No,” she admitted. “Just a bad dream.”

“It’s upset you,” the nurse replied, her manner easy and calm. “Would it help to tell me about it?”

Natasha fought against her sluggish tongue, wanting to speak clearly but knowing the drugs were impeding that. “You’ll think it’s silly.”

The nurse smiled. “Probably not. I have a lot of bad dreams myself.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “I think everybody does. It’s what we do when we’re worried.” Her gaze brightened and Natasha thought she had the most lovely blue eyes. “Are you worried about something in particular?”

Natasha knew the nurse expected her to be worried about her own health and prospects, but that wasn’t it. “My son. He’ll be alone when I die.”

The nurse nodded, considering this. Natasha liked that she didn’t argue or spout a well-intentioned lie. “But we’re all alone in a way, aren’t we?” Before Natasha could think of a reply, the nurse put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Is it your son who comes to give you a massage on Fridays?”

Natasha smiled and nodded. “He’s so good to me.”

“Do you expect him today?”

“No.” Natasha frowned. “It’s New Year’s Eve tonight, isn’t it?”

“It is. Are you expected at a party?”

Natasha smiled. “No. And he won’t be, either. He’ll be at work.”

“Am I right that you had another lumbar puncture?”

Natasha nodded. “They wanted to see if there was improvement.”

“You must be a bit sore,” the nurse suggested. Natasha nodded weary agreement. “I’m just learning to give massages. If you’d like and you think it might help, I could give you one.”

“That would be nice,” Natasha said. “It always eases the pain better than the drugs.”

“I always think it’s wise to be less reliant upon opiates,” the nurse said, sounding purposeful. “Let me help you roll to your stomach.”

“Are you sure you have time? The nurses are always so busy.”

“I’ll make time for you. Don’t concern yourself about it.”

“There’s oil in the drawer...”

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